


Together We Stand

by QuickSilverFox3



Series: Whumptober 2019 [11]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: And Connie will give him one, Angst, Daryl Dixon Needs a Hug, Deaf Character, F/M, Flashbacks, Hurt Daryl Dixon, Past Child Abuse, Slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 21:25:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21004412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Daryl was never going to take Eugene’s word on anything ever again.“Come on,” he snarled, knife pulling free from the walkers head with a sickening noise, decaying flesh coming with it. As soon as it fell, sinking soundlessly to the rotting wood floor, another walker stepped up to the gap in the hastily made barricade, hands grabbing at Daryl.[Whumptober 2019 #11 Stitches





	Together We Stand

**Author's Note:**

> [ My Tumblr!](https://inkformyblood.tumblr.com) Requests are always welcome!
> 
> I am living after the first episode of the new season!!

Daryl was never going to take Eugene’s word on anything ever again.

“Come on,” he snarled, knife pulling free from the walkers head with a sickening noise, decaying flesh coming with it. As soon as it fell, sinking soundlessly to the rotting wood floor, another walker stepped up to the gap in the hastily made barricade, hands grabbing at Daryl.

Their fortifications weren’t going to last, creaking underneath the strain of so many incessant bodies. Already the wood was beginning to break, more and more grasping hands slipping through the gaps. Old fears rose in Daryl’s chest as he peered into the gloom. Were they just zombies out there? Or where they the Whispers, human faces hidden behind treated human skin?

Hand on his arm.

Daryl stopped the reflexive slash of his blade, muscles trembling with the effort as he wheeled around to face Connie. Dust was smeared across one cheek and lay in the curls of her hair, the remenants of a web clinging to one loose curl. Her knife was sheathed and that alone let Daryl relax into her touch, delighting in that small interaction. His skin felt cold when she drew away to point down the back stairs she had been exploring, grabbing his hand to tug him along with her when he glanced back towards the barricade at a particularly loud snap.

“Fuck.”

Walkers spilled through the new gap, staggering into each other, crashing to the ground in their single minded desperation to get to Daryl and Connie. Connie paused, glancing back at him, her eyes widening before she dropped his hand, drawing her knife once again.

No time. Couldn’t stand and fight, too many to kill with just the two of them.

“Come on!” Daryl called reflexively, the noise causing the walkers to stagger into each other, turning towards him. He grabbed hold of Connie’s wrist, heart giving a strange jump as she twisted to hang onto him, fingers working underneath the leather bracelets he had worn for as long as he could remember. She stepped back at his urging, tipping her head back to study his face for a second before nodding, tucking her knife away once more in favour of slinging their bag of supplies over her shoulder.

Eugene needed to pick better targets for supply runs.

Connie took the lead as they ran down the back stair case she had found, dust and cobwebs thick on the air but free of walkers.

Daryl's breath burned in his chest but he ignored it, old instincts proving useful once again as he ran silently, ears priked and alert for any sound, for the shambling footsteps of the walkers behind them. Connie ran next to him, cans rattling in her bag, trusting him to keep them both safe and happiness welled in Daryl's chest, a comforting glow compared to the darkness and despair surrounding them.

»»---------------------►

_"Thank you._"

That was a simple one, Daryl could recognise that one without having to consult the small book tucked into his back pocket.

"You're welcome," he replied, carefully signing and speaking in tandem, brow furrowed with effort before grinning at her laugh.

Connie shook her head, shoulder still shaking, before carding her fingers through her hair, sticking her tongue out at the dust she pulled free. She paused, head tilting to one side, waving her hands to get Daryl's attention, the man blushing when he realised he'd been staring.

"What's up?" Daryl asked, shifting closer when she squinted at his hands in the dim fire light. Connie patted her pockets for her notebook fruitlessly, quickly realising it was buried at the bottom of the supply pack. She pointed at Daryl, then tugged at her sleeve and pointed back at Daryl.

Shame coiled in Daryl’s chest. He was so incompetent with sign language that they were reduced to acting. He pushed it down, ignored the small voice that sounded like his father and followed her gesture. A large tear in the fabric of his shirt greeted him, running from armpit to elbow.

“Shit,” Daryl murmured, running his bare fingers along thankfully unbroken skin.

Connie waved her hands, Daryl’s attention snapping back to her. She held up a small sewing kit in one hand, signing ‘Yes?’ And then ‘No?’ With the other hand. It wouldn’t be painful to sleep with a tear in his shirt, Daryl had slept with worse. But that would mean he would have to take off his shirt, bare skin exposed to the elements and her gaze-

_“Boy!”_

_Daryl bit back a whimper, feet scrabbling against the wood as he pushed himself further under the bed. Maybe this time his Da wouldn’t find him, maybe this time he would rage himself to sleep and Daryl could slip out to the woods like Merle showed him, maybe this time-_

_His father threw the door open, dust falling from the ceiling from the impact, hole behind the handle becoming just a bit bigger. Daryl tasted blood, teeth sunk into the flesh of his hand to bite back the scream. Where was Merle? Why had he left him?_

_But Merle was in prison, so far away his face was beginning to fog over in Daryl’s memories. There was no one to save Daryl as his father knelt down to peer under the bed, belt already held in one hand._

_“There you are you fucking pussy.”_

Daryl gasped for air, cheeks wet, teeth sunk into the meat of his hand just enough to break skin. Connie was in his lap, legs wrapped around his hips, his head pressed to her chest. He could hear her heart, loud and panicked, even as she smoothed one hand through his hair comfortingly.

Daryl was broken, he was worthless, she deserved better than him. And yet, he could enjoy this small moment before he self destructed and destroyed it all.


End file.
